


Not Today

by LadyGreyWrites



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Matchmaking, Older Arya, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8009200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyGreyWrites/pseuds/LadyGreyWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story based off the prompt from Jennilynn411 and BlueEyesBlueSkies: </p><p>He is calling because there's a problem with the new iPhone he bought. The technician on the other end of the line has a deep sexy voice and he wouldn't mind talking to her all day long.   (Tywin Lannister)</p><p>She's the technician on the other end of the line with a bad head cold and an empty bottle of DayQuil. She doesn't know what circle of hell this caller came from but she wants him to go back.   (Arya Stark)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jennilynn411](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennilynn411/gifts), [BlueEyesBlueSkies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueEyesBlueSkies/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a one-shot but will now be 3 chapters. Sorry not sorry

It was already going down as Arya’s worst birthday ever, and it was only 7 a.m. She hit the speaker phone button so she could feed Nymeria while she argued with her team lead at WesTel.

“Seriously, Samwell. Not today. I have the worst head cold ever. I’m not coming into work. Trust me, you don’t want me coughing and dripping snot all over the phones,” Arya said, pouring kibble into Nymeria’s bowl.

Samwell was persistent. “You can’t be sick, Arya, the new OS was released today. The support lines are going to be crazy. We need all hands on deck.”

Arya agreed that she couldn’t be sick, but for a different reason. It was her twenty-first birthday. She got another Kleenex box out of the linen closet and tucked it under her arm and crawled back into bed.

“Sorry Sam. I wasn’t even supposed to be working today to begin with,” Arya said between nose blows.

“Well it’s not as if you’re doing anything today anyway, since you’re sick,” Sam reasoned. “How about this. You can stay home in bed, and I’ll forward one of the priority lines to your phone. Please Arya? I really need you to cover for me. Gilly will kill me if I don’t make it to her ultrasound appointment.”

Arya sighed. “Ok. But you owe me big time. I want first pick on shifts next time you do the schedule.”

“You’re the best Arya. Thanks. The baby thanks you too.”

Arya hung up the phone and checked her inbox. Happy birthday greetings and a ‘who in seven hells gets sick on their twenty-first birthday – I’m going to the bar without you’ from Sansa. A funny e-card from Jon. An invitation for a birthday dinner on the weekend from mother and father. A ‘happy birthday, loser’ from Gendry. But nothing from Jaqen.

Jaqen had been Arya’s Valyrian tutor when she was still at Westeros High, but they had kept in touch after she graduated, occasionally texting or meeting up at Jaqen’s favourite juice bar.

Arya looked at the clock. She still had an hour before the support lines would be open. She crawled out of bed to plug the kettle in. Time to overdose on NeoCitran.

Nymeria whined and circled around Arya impatiently. Arya sighed and threw on her puffy long coat over her pyjamas and grabbed Nymeria’s leash. They went for a quick walk, just long enough for Nymeria to do her business, and made it back just as the kettle started whistling.

Laptop and steaming mug in hand, Arya burrowed back under the blankets on her bed and Nymeria jumped up to join her.

“Silly girl, you take up the whole bed,” Arya complained but didn’t kick her off. She sipped at her NeoCitran while she read the news online. She must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing she knew, the phone was ringing.

Arya groggily tried to sit up, but Nymeria was lying across her legs. “Nymeria!” Arya hissed, pushing at the giant wolfhound. Nymeria made a grumbling noise and jumped down to the floor. Arya grasped at her phone and managed to swipe the screen to answer.

“WesTel Support Centre, Arya speaking. How can I help you today?” Her voice was a bit slurred with grogginess and she felt like she had a frog in her throat. Gods, the caller probably thought she was drunk.

There was a pause on the other side of the line and Arya reached over to her nightstand for the bottle of DayQuil. She needed to wake up so she could actually be helpful.

* * *

Tywin Lannister paused for a moment, letting the young woman’s smoky voice wash over him. Almost like a young Lauren Bacall, he thought. Perhaps setting up his new phone wouldn’t be as _unpleasant_ as he had expected.

“Hello Arya,” he said, leaning back in his office chair. “This is Tywin Lannister calling. I have just received a new iPhone 6 and you will need to set it up for me.”

Tywin heard the sound of typing on the other line, and then a sharp intake of breath.

“I can certainly do that for you, Mr. Lannister. Congratulations on your recent appointment to the WesTel Board of Directors,” the girl rasped.

He had clearly just been googled. _Sharp little thing, isn’t she?_

“Mr. Lannister, I think you will find that the iPhone 6 is quite similar to the 5,” she continued.

“Please, call me Tywin. And I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the iPhone 5 either,” he said.

“Oh, you’re still using the 4? That’s ok—“

“Actually, it is a Samsung,” Tywin said, “One of those flip phones.” Tywin rolled his eyes to the ceiling at the silence from the line. “Spare me the lecture,” he drawled. “I’ve heard it from my grand-daughter Myrcella many times.”

More typing on the other line. The poor girl was probably looking up support files from a decade ago. Tywin picked up his flip phone off the desk and studied it. It was working fine. In the time that he had been using his phone, Myrcella had been through 4 or 5 different cell phones. What was it with these young people and their need for more useless gadgets and features? His phone called people. What else did he need it to do?

“All right, Tywin,” the girl finally said. “We will need to transfer your data to your computer with a USB cable. Do you know what a USB cable is?”

Tywin grunted. “Yes, girl, I know what a USB cable is,” he said testily. The girl walked him through the details of hooking up his old phone to the computer and transferring the data to his new phone, each step sounding all the more _interesting_ due to the husky tones of her voice. What had she said her name was? _Arya_ , he recalled _._ Finally, the files were transferring, indicated by a progress bar on his monitor.

“It may take awhile for the data to transfer,” Arya said. “Perhaps you would like to just call back when it is complete?”

Tywin bristled. “No, I would not,” he said, annoyed. “I had to wait on hold listening to that god awful music for almost 20 minutes. If I hang up now, I may never get through the queue again.”

“Of course, Mr. Lannister. How much time is left on the progress bar?”

“Three hours.”

* * *

_Seriously?_ He wanted her to wait on the line for three hours while his data transferred? She wasn’t going to argue, he was on the board of directors, after all. Thanks gods for Google, or she would have laughed him right off the line when he said he was still using a flip phone. And who in seven hells had thought it was a good idea to appoint a guy using a flip phone to the board of directors for Westeros’ largest telecom company? And she knew for a fact that he hadn't waited 20 minutes on hold. The maximum hold time on the priority lines was 4 minutes and her line had been free the whole time.

Arya hit the mute button on her phone as she felt a coughing spell come on. She took another swig of DayQuil before unmuting the phone. Just as she was about to make some inane comment about the weather, her phone beeped, indicating another call coming in. She looked down at the display. _Unknown Caller._ Jaqen, maybe?

“I’m sorry, Tywin, I’ll need to put you on hold for a minute,” she said quickly.

“I will _not_ be put on hold—“

Arya pressed the button to take the other call and suddenly had another coughing fit and dropped the phone. It tumbled off the bed and onto the floor.

“Godsdammit!” Arya cursed. She leaned over as far as she could, stretching her arm out to reach for her phone without falling out of the bed. She grasped the phone and pulled herself back into bed, dizzy with exertion. _And maybe a little too much DayQuil?_

“Jaqen?” she said breathlessly into the phone.

“Who is Jaqen?”

Arya froze at the sound of the mellifluous, authoritative voice. It was still Tywin Lannister.

“Um, one minute please, Tywin.” Arya frantically exited the call window, trying to see if the other caller was still on the line. Nothing. She switched back to Tywin’s line.

“Sorry about that, Tywin. I’m back now,” Arya said, disappointed.

“Is Jaqen your boyfriend, Arya?”

Arya was starting to feel pretty weird from all the cold medicine. Mixing the NeoCitran and DayQuil probably hadn’t been one of her brighter ideas. She wondered if it was possible to feel hyper, drowsy and paranoid all at the same time. She decided that yes, it certainly was.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Ah. But you’d like him to be, hmm?”

Arya paused. _Seven hells. Would this call ever end?_ “How much time is left now, Tywin?” she asked.

“2 hours and 56 minutes.”

_Nope. This call was never ending. Whichever one of the seven hells Tywin Lannister came from, he could go back to it._

“Plenty of time for you to tell me all about this Jaqen,” Tywin continued.

Arya considered. She hadn’t told anyone about her last conversation with Jaqen – not even Sansa. Perhaps an older, experienced man would be able to shed some light on it? Was she actually considering asking Tywin Lannister for dating advice? _Definitely too much cold medicine._

“Start with how you met him,” Tywin prompted, voice rumbling lazily as if he had all the time in the world. _Just under three hours, in fact._ “Was he a boy from your school?”

“Sort of,” Arya hedged. Tywin was silent, waiting for her to continue. “He was my Valyrian tutor. The school assigned him to me when I was kicked out of Valyrian 30.”

“And what, pray tell, did you do to get kicked out of Valyrian 30?”

“I punched Joffrey Baratheon in the face,” she said, a flash of anger sparking at the memory. Tywin was silent for a long moment.

“Joffrey Baratheon, you say?” he finally asked.

“You know him?” Arya asked nervously. Another pause.

“I’m familiar with him. I have no doubt that he deserved that punch in the face.”

“So Jaqen was your tutor,” Tywin continued. “How much older is he, Arya?”

Arya flushed. “I’m not sure how old he is.”

“An older man though?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“Hmm.”

“It was nothing inappropriate when he was tutoring me,” Arya insisted, not wanting Tywin to get the wrong idea. “But after I graduated, we kept in touch. We would text sometimes, or meet up during the day.”

“During the day,” Tywin repeated, considering. “So no official dates.”

It was a bit alarming how quickly Tywin had assessed the situation between her and Jaqen.

“Tell me about the last time you saw him,” Tywin said.

Arya sighed, remembering. “It was about a month ago.” _Thirty-two days, to be exact._ “We met up at the juice bar in Highgarden…”


	2. Chapter 2

_32 days earlier…_

“Why is it that such a lovely girl has no boyfriends to take her to nice places?” Jaqen asked, sipping his beet-carrot-orange juice. Arya had been complaining that she would have to go see the new Cirque du Soleil show, Mystère, by herself.

“Guys aren’t interested in me, Jaqen. I’ve been friend-zoned by pretty much every guy in Westeros,” Arya said. _Including you,_ she thought.

Jaqen cocked his head to the side and looked thoughtful. “What about the boy named Gendry? He was not immune to the charms of a lovely girl.”

Arya rolled her eyes. “Gendry is dating some woman twice his age. _Melisandre._ What kind of name is that, anyway?”

Jaqen narrowed his eyes. “A girl could have a date from any of those boys from school,” he said.

“That’s not true, Jaqen,” Arya said. “No one asked me out the entire time I was in high school.”

“Boys are intimidated by a lovely girl. They need certain assurances first. Give this man a name of a boy from school and he will make it happen. Any name.”

Arya pursed her lips and stared at Jaqen suspiciously. “I can name anyone from school? And you’ll arrange a date?”

Jaqen nodded his head slowly in mockery of a bow. “A man has said.”

“Anybody?”

Jaqen sighed. “By the seven new gods, and the old gods beyond counting, I swear it. Give the man a name.”

Arya sat quietly for a moment, heart pounding. She could have used a shot of gin with her green goddess juice.

“Alright,” she said, leaning forward across the table. Jaqen met her halfway, brow raised in anticipation of her choice.

“Jaqen H’ghar,” she said quietly.

Jaqen slowly sat back and gave Arya a horrified stare. “A girl gives a man his own name?”

“That’s right,” Arya said, meeting Jaqen’s pale-eyed gaze. She managed to look pleased with herself despite being slightly alarmed by the intense look on Jaqen’s face. Was he angry?

“The gods are not mocked,” he said evenly. “This is no joking thing.”

“I’m not joking.”

“Un-name me,” Jaqen ordered her.

“No,” Arya said flatly.

Jaqen looked away in annoyance before returning his gaze to her face. “A man meant a girl could name any student.”

“But you never specified that,” Arya argued.

“A girl lacks honor.”

Arya shrugged. “So when are we going on a date? Tonight?”

“A girl cannot tell a man exactly when he must do a thing,” Jaqen said, grimacing. “A man cannot make a thing happen before it’s time.”

Arya sighed, her triumphant smile fading from her face. “It’s time, Jaqen,” she said. “I’ve waited three years. It was always you.”

“And I was always aware.”

Arya’s heart did a little flip. “So, when?”

Jaqen stood up and pulled his jacket on.

“Not today. A girl is not ready.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Well done, Arya,” Tywin rumbled enthusiastically, “you beat him at his own game. Maybe you should plan my next corporate take-over while you’re at it.”

“Jaqen hasn’t contacted me since,” Arya said.

“Corporate take-overs take time, Arya. I don’t suppose you tried to contact him?”

“I never have,” Arya said. “Jaqen has always been the one to initiate.”

Tywin made a sound of exasperation. “How in hells is he supposed to know you are interested?”

“He knows.”

“Maybe, maybe not. It’s good to assert yourself, Arya,” Tywin advised.

“I think I did? When I gave him his name?”

“Well, it could just be your age that is making him hesitate. How old _are_ you, Arya?”

“I just turned twenty-one. Today, actually.”

“Today is your twenty-first birthday.” Tywin said, feeling a twinge of something almost like guilt.

“Yes,” Arya answered in her husky voice.

“And you’re on the phone with me, setting up my iPhone.”

“Yes.”

“Hmm.” Tywin observed the “File transfer complete” dialogue box that had been on his screen for quite some time. He might have been exaggerating a bit about the three hours. He looked under his desk and kicked the power cord a few times until it became dislodged from the tower unit of his computer and the screen went black.

“Oh dear,” he drawled into the phone. “My monitor has just gone black.”

“Really? Can you reboot?”

“I’m afraid nothing is working,” Tywin said. “Do you know anything about computers, Arya?”

“A bit,” Ayra answered.

Tywin stretched out his legs and leaned back in his chair again. He took a calculated risk. “Would it be inappropriate for me to ask you to come to my house to take a look?”

A pause on the other line.

“No! No, of course not. I mean, yes, I could come over and take a look.”

Tywin was pleased with himself. “Excellent,” he said. “I’ll send a car over. What is your address?” Arya rattled off her address to him which he jotted down on his notepad. “My driver will be there in 20 minutes.”

 

* * *

Twenty minutes? Holy hells. She probably looked like death warmed over. Arya ran to the bathroom and quickly brushed her teeth. She put on a bit of mascara and smoothed down her tangled hair.

Her phone rang. Sansa. That reminded Arya, she should really have blocked her calls so another support call didn’t come through. Arya answered the phone.

“How are you doing, Arya?” Sansa asked. “Should I come over and make you tea and lemon cakes for your birthday?” Lemon cakes were Sansa’s favourite and she often conveniently forgot that Arya couldn’t stand them.

“I have to go to a WesTel board member’s house to help fix his computer,” Arya said.

“You’re working?”

“Yes!” Arya said, dashing back into her room to pull on a pair of skinny jeans. “Tywin sent a car to pick me up and it’s going to be here any minute.”

“Tywin?” Sansa asked, sounding oddly excited. “As in, Tywin _Lannister_?”

Arya fought to turn her grey sweater right side out. “You know him?”

“Seriously, Arya! Everybody knows Tywin Lannister. He’s Joffrey Baratheon’s grandfather.”

Arya paused, sweater half on. “Bloody hells! He didn’t mention that!” Arya swore.

“He’s kind of hot for an old guy,” Sansa mentioned casually.

“Gods, Sansa! You make fun of me for liking Jaqen and you’re hot for Joffrey’s grandfather?”

“I’m hanging up now, Arya!”

“Good!” Arya yelled and disconnected the call. This time she remembered to set her phone to block incoming calls.

Arya finished dressing, pulled on a pair of combat boots and her coat, and dashed out the door.

 

* * *

 

“Arya. Do come in,” Tywin said, moving aside to let Arya through the door.

She was a tiny slip of a thing, barely five feet tall. He took her coat from her and stole a closer look. She was all doe eyes and freckles and wild dark hair framing her heart-shaped face. _Disgustingly adorable._

Arya caught him looking and narrowed her eyes. Tywin busied himself with hanging her coat in the closet.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

That raspy, sultry voice seemed an antithesis to her slight frame and delicate features.

“No, no,” he said. “I just thought you’d be taller.”

“I get that a lot,” she said. And sneezed. And then started coughing.

“Are you ill, Arya?” Tywin asked, peering down in concern.

“Just a little head cold. I don’t normally sound like a whiskey drinking chain smoker,” Arya assured him, pulling her boots off to reveal black and white striped socks.

“I thought you sounded quite charming, truthfully,” Tywin said. “I’ll make some tea. The computer is just through there,” he continued, pointing to a set of french doors in the entryway.

Tywin walked down the hall toward the kitchen, feeling quite pleased with himself that there was a pretty young girl in his house and she didn’t seem at all disturbed by being alone with him. A fleeting worry that perhaps he was now so old that he was seen as a harmless old man crossed his mind, but then he caught his reflection in the mirrored closet doors and sneered at the foolish thought.

Tywin plugged the kettle in and pulled out two mugs and a canister of Lady Grey tea. He leaned against the counter, waiting for the water to boil.  

He enjoyed the girl’s company. He didn’t often meet anyone that was worth talking to, and Arya was refreshing, somehow. Perhaps because she didn’t seem to have any great need to impress him.

Once the tea was made, Tywin carried the two steaming mugs back to his office. He paused in the doorway.

Arya was bent over under his desk, her pert little ass sticking up in the air. Tywin leaned against the doorframe. “Find anything interesting, Arya?” he asked.

Startled, she straightened up and banged her head on the desk. “Bloody hells!” she swore, rubbing her head. Tywin placed the mugs down and led Arya to his office chair with her tucked under his arm. She was a perfect fit. Arya let him lead her to the chair but gave him an annoyed look when he hovered over her.

“I’m fine. And so is your computer – it was unplugged,” she said. And sneezed. Tywin pushed a mug toward her and handed her a Kleenex.

“Hmm. I must have accidentally kicked it,” he said, sitting on the desk.

Arya blew her nose, and then took a sip of tea as she powered up Tywin’s computer. She looked so tiny in his austere office chair. And serious, with her lips pressed together in concentration as she clicked away.

“It looks like all the data from your old phone finished transferring to your computer. Now we just need to transfer it to your new phone. It won’t take long.” She connected the iPhone and computer with a different USB cable and clicked the mouse a few more times.

“Done! Now I’ll set up your email,” she said, typing on the touch screen of the phone. “What’s your email address?”

“Tywin at Casterly Rock dot com.”

She typed some more and handed Tywin the phone. “Password,” she said.

Tywin entered his password and gave the phone back to her.

“You’re very good at this, Arya.”

She made a face at him and kept working. He found her lack of grace endearing, but still, he couldn’t help correcting her manners.

“It was a compliment, Arya. It’s polite to say thank you,” he lectured, giving her one of his famous glares.

“Thank you,” she murmured, not looking up. “I just need to download some apps for you.”

The last thing he needed was a phone full of games and pointless novelties. “I do _not_ need any apps,” he informed her. “As long as I can send emails and make phone calls, that will be sufficient.”

Arya peered up at him over the phone, lips curving impishly. “So you don’t want a stock market app to keep you constantly informed on any changes to gold prices?”

The corner of Tywin’s mouth twitched. The little imp had found out more than just his recent board appointment when she googled him. “You’re too smart for your own good, Arya,” he said. “Has anyone told you that?”

Arya’s smile widened and she looked back down at the phone. “Yes.”

Tywin snorted and ignored the tiny lurch of disappointment that he hadn’t been the first to tell her so. But he chose not to ignore the disappointment settling in now that his phone was ready to go and Arya would soon be leaving.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, standing.

“No,” Arya quickly answered, and her stomach immediately growled in protest.

“Of course you are,” Tywin said, “It’s past lunch time.”

“I can eat at home.”

“There’s a Qohori deli down the street that serves excellent chicken soup,” Tywin said. “I’ll have some sent over.” He picked up his desk phone and started dialing, ignoring Arya’s exasperated look as she pointed to his new iPhone.

He was just finishing ordering when his iPhone beeped. He looked down and a text message popped up.

**Arya: Rugelach is my favourite <3 **

Tywin raised an eyebrow in wry amusement. “And a dozen rugelach as well.”

He hung up the phone and frowned as Arya had a coughing fit.

“Come,” he said. “You can rest in the living room until the food arrives.”

Tywin got Arya settled on the sofa with extra throw cushions and a wool cashmere blanket and then fetched her another mug of tea. She was looking at him curiously when he set the mug down on the end table beside her.

“You don’t have to do all this,” Arya said. Even lying down, she only took up two thirds of the sofa, so Tywin sat down on the far end.

“Consider it a thank you for the house call,” he said, giving her foot a gentle squeeze through the blanket. Arya smiled tentatively, but didn’t shy away, so Tywin left his hand resting on her foot.

“Tell me, Arya. Why Jaqen?”

Tywin observed as her bow-shaped lips pursed in contemplation and her eyes softened.

_Oh, to be young and in love._

“Jaqen is the only one who ever believed in me,” Arya said slowly. “He’s the only one who encouraged me to follow my dreams.”

_Oh, to be young and have dreams._

“And what are your dreams, Arya?” Tywin asked, doing his best to keep any cynicism out of his tone.

”I want to be a circus performer,” she said, wide eyes sparkling. “A contortionist!”

Tywin blinked and kept his face blank as he pushed an inappropriately erotic image out of his mind.

“You think it’s stupid,” Arya said, smile fading.

Twenty-one years old, too smart for her own good, cute as a button, and a budding _contortionist_ , for gods sake. This Jaqen was an _idiot._

“No, no,” Tywin said. “I’m just relieved you didn’t say your dream was to work in a call centre. Not that you aren’t skilled at your job, mind you.”

“I’m only working at WesTel to save money. I auditioned and was accepted into the Braavos Arts Academy but I don’t have enough money for the tuition yet. I never would have auditioned if it wasn’t for Jaqen.”

“Hmm. And if Jaqen were to finally pick up the phone and call you, what would Arya’s Dream Date be?

Arya answered immediately. “A Cirque show. They have the most _incredible_ performers. And then burgers at a fast food drive-through.”

Tywin gave her a look of disbelief. “Aren’t most girls more interested in flowers and expensive dinners?”

“Most girls are idiots.”

“Ha!” Tywin laughed. And felt a memory tug at his insides, sobering him. “You remind me of someone. Someone who mattered a great deal to me,” he said slowly.

“Who?” Arya asked, sitting up.

Tywin stared at his hands, wondering why he was speaking to Arya of something he _never_ spoke of, not to _anyone_. “My wife, Joanna. She died a long time ago. She wasn’t like other girls, and she would have agreed whole-heartedly with you that most girls are idiots.”

“I like her already,” Arya said. “How long ago did she die?”

How old was Tyrion now?

“Oh, it must be coming up to 35 years now,” Tywin said.

“Did you love her?”

Tywin felt a stirring of something that he thought he had killed long ago. “Very much,” he said.

“And you never remarried?” Arya asked.

“No.”

Arya leaned forward. “But you must have dated,” she pressed.

Tywin looked at her with a smirk. “I wouldn’t have called it dating, but there have been other women,” he said wryly.

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “You haven’t even dated for 35 years and you’re telling me I need to assert myself more with Jaqen?”

_Saucy little imp._

“Careful now, girl. I enjoy you, but be careful.”

Arya was saved by the doorbell.

After paying the delivery man, Tywin took the food to the kitchen to put it on proper dishes. When he brought the bowl of soup to Arya, she was looking at her phone again and looking forlorn. Tywin decided he’d give Jaqen another couple hours to stop being an idiot. After that, he’d show Arya how a woman should be treated and make her forget that Jaqen ever existed.

“Eat.”

Arya dug into her bowl enthusiastically. When she was almost done, Tywin slipped back into the kitchen to brew espresso and arrange the rugelach on a plate. Arya’s eyes widened when he set the plate down in front of her.

Tywin felt something nearly akin to pleasure as he watched her take a bite of the flakey, nut-filled pastry. Arya closed her eyes and actually _moaned_ in delight. Tywin smiled and sat back to enjoy his espresso, forgoing the overly-sweet dessert. Her small size certainly wasn’t due to a lack of eating, Tywin thought as he watched her polish off the entire plate.

Tywin stood to clear the dishes and Arya asked him where the bathroom was. He directed her down the hall and then carried the dishes to the kitchen.

“Holy mother of dragons!” Arya exclaimed from the bathroom.

Tywin rolled his eyes and continued loading the dishwasher. He returned to the living room just as Arya came back from the bathroom.

“Oh gods, your bathroom is _amazing_!” she raved. “If I had a bathtub like that, I’d never leave it. The suite I’m renting doesn’t even _have_ a tub, just a shower. I think your tub alone is bigger than my entire bathroom.”

And then a simply magnificent idea came to Tywin.

 

* * *

Arya could not _believe_ she was having a bubble bath in Tywin “kind of hot for an old guy” Lannister’s house. But Tywin had practically _insisted_ on it after she had her little freak out about how amazing his bathroom was. And if she considered that she was still technically “on call”, she could even get _paid_ to have a bubble bath. _Score._

She sank down in the water up to her chin and sighed in bliss. _So_ many bubbles. Arya pressed the button to start the jets up and watched as the bubbles expanded and expanded until she could barely see through them.

“Arya, I don’t think the jets are meant to be used with bubble bath,” Tywin said from the other side of the door.

Arya giggled and turned the jets off. The bubbles were now halfway up the bathroom wall. “I can’t imagine why not!” she called back. She heard him snort and walk away.

Arya frowned as she considered her time spent with Tywin Lannister. For all his swagger and self-assured arrogance, he seemed very _lonely._ She was pretty sure he had unplugged his computer on purpose so she’d come over and hang out with him, but she decided she didn’t mind. She’d have to find some way of letting him know that he could skip all the pretense next time. And there _would_ be a next time, because there was no way in hells that this was going to be the sole time she got to use his magical jet tub.

There was a soft knock and then the door opened.

“Um?” Arya squeaked as Tywin entered the bathroom and took a seat on the little stool by the tub.

“Oh for gods sakes, Arya, you probably show more skin when you go to the clubs at night than what I can see now with all those bubbles,” he grumbled.

The bubbles had receded down the wall some, but Arya was still well-covered by what was left. Just to be on the safe side, she sank down deeper in the water and crossed her arms over her chest.

Tywin had his phone in his hand and was looking perplexed. “I’m trying to figure out how to use this damned camera.” He pressed a button and the flash went off. “There we go!” he said. He studied the screen and then looked up at Arya.

“You’re looking rather fetching in this photo, Arya,” he said in an easy tone.

“What?” Arya said, alarmed. “Give me that!” she cried, trying to grab the phone from his hand. The _white_ phone. Tywin’s phone was black. “Why do you have my phone?”

“How do you spell Jaqen?” Tywin asked.

“NOOOOO!” Arya wailed and reached for her towel but Tywin casually kicked it away.

“Ah, here he is,” Tywin said, sounding very pleased with himself.

Arya decided some things were more important than whether or not Tywin Lannister saw her naked, and she climbed out of the tub and lunged for her phone. Tywin stood up and held the phone above his head so she couldn’t reach, even when she jumped. _Godsdammit,_ Arya _hated_ being short.

And then she heard the whooshing sound indicating that a text message had been sent.

“What have you done?” she moaned. She leaned over to pick up her towel and Tywin didn’t stop her this time. He was staring at her phone and muttering something. She thought she heard him say, “This is your last chance, Jaqen.”

“What did you say?” she asked, wrapping the towel around herself. And then her phone dinged, announcing an incoming text message.

Tywin sat back down on the stool and Arya sat on the edge of the tub, leaning over his shoulder to read the text.

**Jaqen: A lovely girl has become a lovely woman.**

Tywin grunted. He and Arya continued to stare at the screen in anticipation as the “. . .” indicated that Jaqen was typing again.

**Jaqen: A man must ask forgiveness for not calling sooner to wish a lovely woman a lovely birthday.**

The “. . .” symbol blinked again.

**Jaqen: Perhaps a man can take a lovely woman out to celebrate today?**

Tywin looked at Arya and raised his eyebrows. “Are you feeling well enough to go out?”

“I’m feeling fine!” Arya said, reaching for the phone. Tywin held it out of her reach and started typing, and then hit send. He held the phone so Arya could see it.

**Arya: Not today.**

“Tywin! I would have gone!” Arya protested.

Tywin held the phone out of her reach again and typed another message and hit send. He handed the phone back to Arya.

**Arya: I received two tickets to Cirque du Soleil’s Zumanity as a birthday present. They’re for tomorrow night. Would you like to be my date?**

Arya stared at Tywin. “But I didn’t receive any tickets for my birthday.”

Tywin stood and cupped Arya’s cheek. “Yes, you did, you little imp. I believe they are even box seats.” He turned and left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Arya’s phone dinged again.

**Jaqen: A man would be honored.**

 

* * *

After Arya left, Tywin had spent some time in his office using his new phone. He thought Arya would be quite pleased with him. He had found a Ticketmaster app and used it to purchase the Cirque du Soleil tickets for Arya. It was quite an ingenious little program, actually. It would email her the tickets and she didn’t even need to print them off. Maybe these smart phones weren’t so frivolous after all.

But still, the most important thing was that it made phone calls. And Tywin Lannister had a very important phone call to make.

 

* * *

“Ok, but did you tell Tywin you have an even _more_ beautiful older sister?” Sansa asked. Arya eyed her sister, considering. Gods, Tywin wouldn’t even know what hit him if she set him up with Sansa. 

A ding from her phone interrupted her thoughts. A new email. Arya picked up her phone to check the message.

_Dear Ms. Stark,_

_The Braavos Arts Academy has recently received funding for a scholarship to be awarded to a promising Westeros student, and you have been selected as our first recipient. Please contact the admissions office to coordinate the transfer of funds._

_Syrio Forel  
Department of Circus Studies_


End file.
